


these kisses are clandestine / no one can see them

by fab_ia



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: M/M, References to Sex, Warren Kepler VS Feelings, aka jacobi wants to Do Things and keplers a tease, ayooo back at it again!, implied nsfw ending, mcdonalds at 3am, mentions of violence and injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 22:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17496353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_ia/pseuds/fab_ia
Summary: “put your clothes on, make yourself look like someone who’s going to go to a mcdonald’s at three in the morning. i might even let you order a happy meal just for the toy, i’m feeling generous.”





	these kisses are clandestine / no one can see them

you’re pretty sure jacobi’s already curled up under the covers in the room next door, while you bend over the sink and scrub at your hands with a hard-bristle brush. you can only grimace at your nails, the undersides of which are stained a deep reddish-brown that stubbornly refuses to fade even as you scrub at the colour with a cascade of near-boiling water running over your hand. the blood has mostly disappeared from the cracks and lines in your skin, the only indication of violence on the more fleshy parts of your hand the still-raw cuts that crisscross your knuckles.

fuck it, actually. you toss the brush back to the edge of the sink and glare at your reflection in the grimy mirror for a little while before you shake your head at it. you’ve got a cut on your jaw and it’s stinging, a little, but it’s not bad enough that you can’t ignore it and head for bed.

the bed that, apparently, jacobi vacated at some point before you came in. he’s leaning out of the window, staring out at the city you’ve found yourselves in at the end of this (exactly what city that is doesn’t really matter, you don’t get to look around anyway) with a lit cigarette in the hand he’s letting dangle out of the window.

“you got ash on the carpet,” you point out, voice low. jacobi shrugs, apparently unconcerned as he lifts the cigarette to his lips and exhales into the night are, chuckling to himself as he watches the smoke curl up and get caught on the wind. he’s shirtless. that’s very nearly the only thing you notice about him, besides the cigarette, before you catch a glimpse of the gauze and band-aids that cover his left arm. “what did you do?”

“kaboom,” he says. it’s entirely unhelpful, which doesn’t much surprise you. he’s a stubborn brat when he wants to be and an absolute child at any point beyond that. 

you raise an eyebrow at him and he grins lazily, tossing the cigarette butt out of the window and stretching, eyes lighting up when he sees how yours trace the lines of his body. he’s... an attractive man. 2011, he’d still been a little soft in the stomach, constantly adjusting his binder beneath his shirt and scratching beneath the straps (something you’d quickly learnt was just a habit of his) but now… now, he’s well-muscled and  _ fit _ , definitely. the scars on his chest, he insists, make him look “badass”. he always says it with a wink, clearly flexing his muscles a little in an attempt to make his tattoos stand out a little more.

“are we leaving now, or in the morning?” he asks, tilting his head to one side and startling you from your contemplation as to what he would sound like if you were to press kisses along the scars. “kepler? if we’re leaving now, i wanna stop off at a store and buy snacks.”

“we had dinner.”

“ _ hours  _ ago. i’m starving.”

jacobi likes food. jacobi is, surprisingly, a decent cook. the only food of his that you’ve ever actually tasted was homemade pasta with some kind of viscera ragu that he’d insisted was a rachael ray recipe he  _ definitely hadn’t  _ seen on ‘worst cooks in america’. you’re pretty sure he only picked it because he knows you’ve never seen that show, but it was  _ really  _ good and you can’t say you weren’t impressed. he doesn’t seem the type to cook-

“you’re doing the thing again,” jacobi sighs. “kepler, major, sir, you keep, like… drifting. i don’t think you’re paying any attention to me.”

“i’m not.”

“cool.”

he doesn’t seem overly bothered, rolling his shoulders back and sighing in relief when his back cracks. “seriously, though, when are we leaving?”

“soon as we pack,” you say. “i… jacobi. come here.”

he comes to you quickly, lazy grin on his face as he leans in for the kiss you were going to go for anyway. his lips are soft and taste a little like-

“is- is that strawberry chapstick?”

sheepishly, he grins. “can’t have you kissing ol’ rough-lips, huh? i gotta find some way to convince you i’m still worth your time.”

what he doesn’t realise, then, is that you love him despite all that and so you kiss him again, one hand tracing the tattoos on the left side of his ribs before you push him away. “put your clothes on, make yourself look like someone who’s going to go to a mcdonald’s at three in the morning. i might even let you order a happy meal just for the toy, i’m feeling generous.”

a child. the man you love is a fucking  _ child  _ because he beams at that before getting dressed again (you so a good job at pretending you don’t stare at the way his jeans cling to his thighs, at the way his jacket strains just a little at the shoulders).

“your shoes are scuffed,” you say instead of anything else you notice. jacobi snorts, preoccupied with his reflection in the mirror and sticking a safety pin through one of the piercings in his ear. it looks… good, you decide. the faux-punk look he’s been trying out for the past few months suits him a lot better than you thought it would.

“yeah,” he eventually says, after he’s pulled faces at his reflection for a few minutes and you’ve started to forget you mentioned anything about his appearance in the first place. “got in a fight at a concert. i won, obviously. broke some poor bastard’s nose after he made a comment about a girl’s outfit. but yeah. i won and barely got hurt so it’s a win-win situation, to me.”

you hate it when jacobi gets hurt. so far, he’s been shot and burnt, as well as cut and very nearly impaled. you’ve stitched him up a lot, considering you’ve only been working together a little over a year.

“good boy,” you say when jacobi passes over your jacket and grin at the way his eyes light up when he hears it. 

 

* * *

 

 

in the car, jacobi insists on picking the music again, which you let happen without arguing too much. any protest you do have is half-hearted and mostly joking at any rate, because you really couldn’t give a shit what you’re listening to. he puts on something loud and angry and he laughs when you ask him to turn it down.

the only time he lowers the volume is when you pull into the mcdonald’s parking lot and tell jacobi that you just want something that tastes good before you have to drive back to goddard’s main offices in florida. jacobi nods slowly, before kissing you once more and getting out of the car with a grin on his face and your credit card in his hand. thievery isn’t new to him, nor is it surprising to you, but it’s enough to get you to sigh and lean back in your seat as he heads off.

he’s back in ten, paper bags in hand and a triumphant grin as he tosses one onto your lap and sets the drinks onto the dashboard. “dinner. or breakfast, maybe, i’m not super sure yet. i got you a big mac because i thought about how that sounds like a shitty porno euphemism for ‘dick’ and it made me laugh.”

“are you living out your teenage years of childish hilarity now that you’re thirty?”

jacobi pulls a face. “don’t use such big words so late at night.”

you stare at him with incredulity and raise an eyebrow, amusement clear in your voice when you say “which one, ‘teenage’, ‘childish’ or ‘hilarity’?” he looks back at you and pulls a different face, one that’s a lot more annoyed as he shrugs, stuffing a few fries into his mouth. you mirror him and do the same but slower, eyes still on him as he eats.

when you’ve both eaten he smiles at you, closing his eyes as he leans back a little into the fabric of the seat and kicks his feet up onto the dashboard before you smack his leg and he yelps before sitting properly again. “spoilsport,” he hisses, but he’s still grinning a little. “mm. i always forget how fucking  _ salty  _ their fries are.”

he winks at you, makes a show of licking his lips as his eyes move up and down your face, tracking your micro-expressions and waiting for a reaction. he’s too easy, so you stare blankly at him for a second before snorting and turning away.

“your flirting is terrible.”

“oh,” jacobi says flatly. “fuck. hang on, let me make it clear- i want to have sex.”

“i can tell.”

jacobi grins at you, leans over, and you let him kiss you for a few moments. he leans away when you don’t kiss back, his face falling a little as he studies you, eyes wide. “sir? i- did i- did i misjudge this?” 

it’s almost sweet, how scared he looks. you smile and turn the car on. “we’ll talk about it when we get to florida.”

“ _ sir- _ ”

“later, jacobi.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @sciencematter
> 
> title is from ntozake shange's "its happenin/ but you dont know abt it" (found here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/148925/its-happenin-but-you-dont-know-abt-it )


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